


Calculations

by Rubynye



Category: Numb3rs, Torchwood
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi, One of My Favorites, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-11
Updated: 2010-01-11
Packaged: 2017-10-06 03:56:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rubynye/pseuds/Rubynye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charlie's first consulting job, aka how he met Susan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Calculations

**Author's Note:**

> Susan Berry was Charlie's girlfriend during his time at Cambridge University; she appeared in Ep. 2.18, _All's Fair_.  
> Warnings/Spoilers: Het, slash, threesome, crossover.  
> All Thanks To: [](http://tigerbright.livejournal.com/profile)[**tigerbright**](http://tigerbright.livejournal.com/) for the title, [](http://lomedet.livejournal.com/profile)[**lomedet**](http://lomedet.livejournal.com/) for boundless encouragement, [](http://jelsemium.livejournal.com/profile)[**jelsemium**](http://jelsemium.livejournal.com/) for [](http://community.livejournal.com/numb3rs_xovers/profile)[**numb3rs_xovers**](http://community.livejournal.com/numb3rs_xovers/), and [](http://dsudis.livejournal.com/profile)[**dsudis**](http://dsudis.livejournal.com/) for beta reading this, for which I am utterly grateful.

Title: Calculations  
Fandom: Numb3rs/Torchwood  
Rating: NC-17  
Pairing: Jack Harkness / Charlie Eppes / Susan Berry  
_Disclaimer:_ None of these characters or their settings belong to me.

Charlie drifts warmly, mind hazy and body deliciously sore, the prettiest girl he's ever met sleeping in his arms while the handsomest man he's ever had sex with hums in her shower. Jack Harkness' voice fills Susan Berry's little bedroom with pleasant music as Charlie eases open an eye to look at her asleep, her soft heart-shaped face, her eyelashes long and blonde on her radiantly pink cheeks.

Charlie's so tired his eyes hurt, but he can't stop looking at Susan in the golden lamplight, at her creamy skin and her rosy nipples, the harmonic curve of her hip and her arm draped gracefully across his waist. Her eyelids cover bright blue eyes, sparkling with intelligence, smoky with heat when Jack got them naked and she leaned over Charlie, her eyebrows sharp, her arms sleek and her mouth hot. Brilliantly beautiful, she understood when Charlie was so turned on he babbled math, laughing in her lilting Estuary accent and kissing his forehead as she murmured, "speak to me, genius boy." Charlie remembers her breath in his ear and how she rippled around him, and even though he's exhausted down to his bones he shivers all over again.

And he remembers Jack's puff of laughter against the back of his neck, Jack holding him tightly and pushing into him... Charlie's thoughts are fragmenting into a kaleidoscope of sensory moments, and he briefly shuts his eyes, Susan's image glowing across the inside of his eyelids, taking just a moment to organize his memories because he's definitely going to remember this night forever.

Two weeks ago, Captain Jack Harkness from the Torchwood Institute emailed asking to meet Charlie, and they ended up having a pint together nearly every afternoon this week. Charlie still isn't exactly sure what the "Torchwood Institute" _is_, with its lack of any public affiliations, and in part because whenever he remembered to ask Jack distracted him. With some intriguing math -- Charlie's never seen tensor fields applied to multiple dimensions outside of some wildly hypothetical problems, but both Jack and the numbers assured him that this described something real, vast and dynamic but real -- and with that broad smile, so bright that Charlie kept dropping his gaze, smiling bashfully in return as warm possibility crackled through him.

Charlie's already been enjoying Cambridge, and not just the math, fascinating as his studies are. Sometimes he feels a little lost in this very different country, separated by an ocean from everyone who really cares how much he eats and sleeps, but in six months he's upped his sexual experience by an order of magnitude of partners, let alone diversity of practices. Jack's handsome yet charming, with a relaxed attitude that eases Charlie's shyness, and as he listened to Charlie's explanations he kept patting Charlie's shoulders and tapping his wrists; Charlie watched Jack talk and wondered what he tasted like, looked into his eyes and wondered if he actually meant anything by his tactile manner. It's easier to tell with the British students, who usually take pity on Charlie's geeky cluelessness and hit on him fairly directly, but Jack's a fellow American, though Charlie still hasn't placed his accent.

When Charlie emailed to say he had his final results, Jack's ebullient reply included an invitation to dinner at a dauntingly nice restaurant. Charlie put on his best jacket and his unscuffed shoes, and realized halfway there that he'd dressed like he was going on a date.

Then he found Jack at the bar, laughing with a beautiful blonde girl like he'd brought his own date. Charlie's stomach plummeted under that familiar sinking feeling, and he stood there pathetically, wondering how long Jack would take to notice him if at all.

But Jack saw him almost immediately, turning that gleaming grin and the girl's attention to him as he said, "Dr. Charlie Eppes, meet Miss Susan Berry. Charlie, Susan is studying neurobiology; Susan, Charlie's here from America doing postgraduate work in mathematics."

"Hi," Charlie stammered as Susan's eyelashes swept down and up again, her cool blue eyes lighting up at Jack's description. She shook his hand firmly, her tender pink mouth curving into a smile.

Charlie blinked, trying not to stare, focusing on those sky-blue eyes as she said, "A doctorate already? Impressive. I'm on my Master's now, in Rhys-Levi's lab; we're comparing symbolic and subsymbolic cognitive models by building them in parallel."

Charlie nodded, tongue feeling thick; he swallowed hard, managed not to drool, and replied, "I've done a little work with symbolic models. My last project before I left Princeton was developing algorithms for Chandramurthy and Wilkins' personoid system."

Susan's silky eyebrows lifted as she actually grinned, beautifully like everything else about her, and Charlie smiled back and desperately hoped he wasn't about to embarrass himself with a raging erection in the next two seconds.

"I knew you'd get along great," said Jack, smiling expansively at them both. "Hey, look, our table's ready."

Around then, Charlie's memories start to blur a bit, as if their details have melted in the heat. Not being able to remember with precision is annoying in general, and all the more on such an important subject; Charlie concentrates as he recalls dinner, listening to Susan's even breathing and Jack's rolling rendition of "Anything Goes," picturing how the buxom waitress leaned over Jack like she wanted to join them.

Everyone leaned towards Jack, he was so magnetic Charlie had to restrain himself from making jokes about Maxwell's equations, but, unbelievably wonderfully, Susan kept glancing over the perfect ellipse of her shoulder to smile at Charlie too. Jack had also asked her to consult, on an interesting problem of fundamental cognition; when she described her conclusions and Charlie ventured a suggestion she opened her eyes glowingly wide, her lips parting as if she might kiss him, and beyond her Jack leaned back in his chair with a satisfied grin.

Susan didn't kiss Charlie over dessert, though she smiled and flicked her tongue pinkly along her lucky, lucky spoon. She kissed him sometime during the taxi ride back to her flat, as Jack laughed warmly and squeezed them, and Charlie forgot to worry about shocking the cabbie. Jack kissed him too, and Susan, and pushed them out of the cab as he insisted on paying, climbing out to sling his arms around them both and lead them up the steps.

They stumbled in, laughing and kissing as Susan apologized for the state of the place, which looked perfectly neat to Charlie's distracted eyes. Of course, he was busy watching Jack kiss Susan, her fingers ruffling up his neat dark hair and her neck long and fine under his broad hand, feeling his heart pound in his chest as he tried to instantly summon everything he'd learned in two threesomes' experience and not to trip over his own feet.

Then Jack kissed him again, and Charlie forgot everything but Jack's mouth firm on his, Jack's fingers curving around his head, Susan's delighted tipsy giggle and hand on his chest. Charlie didn't remember any of them drinking much, but tipsy was exactly how he felt as he pressed his face to Jack's shirt and inhaled. Jack smelled mouthwateringly male and musky, a little like a really good ale, and Charlie dizzily analogized that they were getting drunk on Jack as Susan pushed aside Jack's collar and fastened her soft pink mouth to Jack's throat.

Jack's laugh was triumphant, as if he knew exactly the effect he caused, and he propelled them into Susan's bedroom, sat on her white tufted comforter and said, "let me see you undress each other." Susan pushed Charlie's jacket off and peeled his shirt away as she kissed him hungrily, her lips tender and her mouth sweet, and she smelled floral and richly feminine and absolutely edible as Charlie struggled to keep up, managing to not get tangled in her clothes. She pulled off her dress for him, and Jack unhooked her bra, and Charlie moaned into her mouth as her breasts brushed his skin and her hands slid over his bare shoulders.

It was all spinning wider and hotter and wilder, like a hurricane, like a galaxy. "Spirals," Charlie murmured against her mouth as she wound her arms round his neck and Jack undid his belt. "Centripetal forces, _b_ raised to theta, um..."

Susan giggled into his mouth, Jack laughed and stood up, and Charlie's heart lurched as he realized he was talking in math. He clutched his courage and looked up, but they were both smiling at him. Susan's brows pulled together and she pushed him onto her bed and straddled him, kissing his forehead, murmuring, "Daft genius," as she kissed down his cheek to his mouth.

"Here, kids," said Jack behind her, spectacularly naked, holding his long coat in one hand. Susan looked back and gasped, but so did Charlie; the man was built like a tower, and he put his hand on his hip, showing off with a grin as they ogled him. "You'll need these." Draping the coat casually over the bedside chair, Jack threw a handful of condoms on the bed.

"That's a half dozen!" Susan said, laughing and incredulous, shifting up Charlie's body. Her sleek thighs pressed to his, he cautiously set his hands halfway between her knees and hips, her skin petal-fine and lightly padded under his fingers, as he wondered what she could see in him beside Jack's tall athletic frame.

But she smiled at Charlie, eyes gleaming, sinking her hand into his hair, so he said, "eight, actually," and squeezed her hips very lightly.

She growled, thrillingly high-pitched, and slammed Charlie down on the bed by kissing him, as Jack said cheerfully, "and we're going to use every one."

They did, too. Charlie remembers that, though around this point his memories begin to seriously fragment. He can remember licking Jack's sweat-tangy collarbone, Susan screaming and pulling his hair as he rolled her clit between his lips, Jack pinning his wrists one-handed and pressing behind his balls while Susan laughed delightedly and muffled him with her plush breasts, but the order is uncertain, random. There must be a sequence, some acts had to precede or follow others, but Charlie can't remember if Jack fucked Susan before or after or while she sucked him, moaning around his cock while he stared at her wide-eyed, her pink mouth and her soft cheeks and her tousled golden hair, as Jack whispered dirtily in his ear and kissed him every time he said something in math, describing the strokes of her tongue or the acceleration of his pulse. The evening must have had a temporal organization, but Charlie's memories are a whirling assortment of spectacular, sweaty images reshuffling in his mind.

Charlie does remember the last time he came, the last time they all did before they finally collapsed. He was wrapped up in Susan rippling around him, her skin velvety damp and radiantly warm, her hair silkily overflowing his hand. He had the other hand braced against Jack's marble-sculpture abs as Jack knelt over them murmuring, "that's it, kids," his fingers curved through Charlie and Susan's hair as they licked his cock and each other's tongues. Susan laughed and Charlie laughed, chasing her lips around the curve of Jack's cock, sucking on the head and smirking at her fake pout, not even minding the chemical taste of latex. Charlie let Susan push him away with a kiss so she could suck Jack noisily, listening to Jack's broad laugh as his fingers shook around Charlie's head and overlapped with Charlie's in Susan's hair. All the while Charlie's and Susan's hips rocked together, steady and cyclic, suffusing Charlie's whole body with almost gentle pleasure, and he'd already come twice, he wasn't sure if he could or should try for a third. He licked Susan's bottom lip until she moaned and pulled her mouth off Jack to kiss him properly, sliding her tongue over his, and as Jack chuckled over them, stroking their hair, Charlie couldn't imagine possibly feeling better.

Jack shifted away, letting them go, and Charlie slid his freed hand beneath the dimpled small of Susan's back as kissed her more deeply, absently tracking Jack by the pattern of the mattress dipping, wondering distantly what crazy hot combination Jack would come up with next. Jack had produced most of the evening's ideas, Susan had laughed and thrown herself into whatever Jack wanted, and Charlie had fallen dazed with pleasure after her. Just like he was sinking now, melting into Susan's stroking hands and twining legs, the pulsing clutch of her body, the thrust of her flexing tongue.

Then Jack set both hands on Charlie's back, where they covered a lot of area, and said, "whoopsydaisy" as he rolled Charlie and Susan over. They muffled each other's surprised squeaks before they managed to pull their mouths apart and look up. "Stay right there," Jack said, pressing his hand over Charlie's on Susan's back, sliding it off to squeeze her ass and make her giggle languidly, her head dropping to Charlie's shoulder. Jack kept going with both hands, clutching Charlie's hips, dragging them together up over his knees.

Charlie gaped, hanging onto Susan as Jack effortlessly hauled them both where he wanted them, seeing at least two ways this could go. Which of them was Jack going to fuck this time? Another tug, skidding over the rumpled sheets, and Charlie had his answer, as Jack lined himself up, nudging Charlie and smirking over Susan's head. Charlie grabbed an openmouthed breath, not quite sure about this -- Jack had been magnificent and merciless, and Charlie's ass still tingled a little sorely -- but Jack tightened his grip and pulled, Susan moaned sharply in surprise, and Jack pushed into Charlie in one long steady thrust until his balls thumped Charlie's ass, just barely too slow for a slam.

Charlie clutched Susan, his back pulling in a taut arch, his own dick throbbing inside her as all his nerves flared and caught fire. He screamed, he honestly screamed, he couldn't help it, it was like Jack knocked the noise right up out of him. Susan laughed over his cheek as she kissed it, kissed his mouth as he gasped, then glanced back at Jack with a pretty little moue. Charlie would've lifted his head to kiss her back, if he could've _moved_, if he could've done anything but feel the crackling stretch of Jack's cock inside him and his skin prickling all over, twice as intense under her warm weight and Jack's tight strong hands.

"Ah, I thought you'd fuck _my_ arse," Susan murmured, and the side-to-side sensation of her little waggle seared through Charlie so he groaned.

"I haven't forgotten you, my pretty neurospecialist," Jack said, curving a hand between Charlie's chest and Susan's breast, his other hand closing around Charlie's wrist, peeling his arm away from her back. Charlie tried to push back but Jack thrust again and Charlie shuddered and flailed and couldn't fight. His brain felt like it was starting to melt, neurons disconnecting and disintegrating, his hands fell nervelessly to the mattress as Jack pulled Susan, flushed and laughing, up against himself.

"Susan dear," Jack murmured, his lips against her head as she shivered and closed her eyes, as Charlie shuddered under her, pinned between them. "Look at Charlie." Jack cupped her breast, tweaking her nipple between his fingertips, and she moaned and arched into his hand, reaching up to loop her arms around his neck, her long lashes fluttering heavily as she obeyed. "Isn't he something?" Groping for handholds, Charlie clutched Jack's steel-hard calves; he lay pressed to the bed by their heavy-lidded gazes, breathing hard and biting his lip to keep from moaning as Jack rocked him into Susan. "He's brilliant, you know." Jack's other hand slid forward from her hip, over her delicately oval belly, and when he touched her clit she gasped and Charlie felt her flutter around him and whimpered with her. "A world-changing brain's under those curls, behind those big brown eyes."

Charlie flushed all the hotter, and he swallowed hard and succeeded at gasping out actual words. "Jack, fuck, please," he begged, because it was too much for his sizzling brain to process, being stared at, being talked about, both of them fucking him. Susan pressed her head back against Jack's chest, arching into his thrusts, driving counterpoint against Jack, and Charlie was past all thought, flame flickering down his wire-taut nerves. His heart slammed up into his ribcage and every movement made him groan, teetering closer to oblivion.

"Come on, my pretty geniuses," Jack growled, thrusting searingly into Charlie, shoving him into Susan, pressing Susan into his touch. Charlie yelped, Jack grinning maniacally above him as Susan thrashed; she cried out a rising cadence as she came, pulsing around Charlie, shaking in Jack's hands. Charlie watched until his eyes rolled back, seeing her breasts bounce as she shimmied, feeling waves of her pleasure propagate up his spine. "Hang on," Jack ordered, voice gone deep and raspy, and Susan slumped down onto Charlie's chest, her arms draping limply around his neck. "Hold onto him," Jack gritted out, and Susan breathed an acknowledging laugh over Charlie's damp shoulder as she firmed up her embrace, as Jack's hands slid to Charlie's waist and he leaned over Susan's back and Charlie hadn't _known_ before how merciless Jack could really be.

As Jack pounded him into the bed Charlie clung to Susan, her soft skin and warm weight grounding him as he arched and screamed and saw impossible dimensions explode behind his eyes, felt his blood flash-boil and his bones disintegrate, came so annihilatingly he was surprised to settle back into an intact, sweaty, gasping body. Susan breathed in his ear, soothing and wordless, as Jack grunted and slammed into Charlie one, two, three, four more times and came on the fifth, shaking over Susan and through Charlie, groaning low through gritted teeth.

A drop of sweat dripped from Jack's hanging hair, splashing onto Susan's back, and her sleepy laugh tingled into Charlie's neck. Charlie's bones felt like powder, his thighs burned like coals around Jack's waist and his ass frankly kind of hurt; he gasped for air with Susan pressed to his chest as euphoric lassitude spread through him and his grin spread with it, wide and dazed across his face. It was worth it. It was so worth it.

Jack opened blown eyes, focused on Charlie, and smiled back, sweetly enough to make Charlie's breath catch. He kissed across Susan's back, her neck and her cheek as she tilted her face up just enough for him to reach her mouth, and then kissed Charlie very gently, very soothingly, as he pulled out. Even so, Charlie's ass throbbed sharply, and Charlie winced against Jack's mouth. "Ow," he said when Jack let up, maybe a little petulantly, but he'd earned it.

Jack's eyes crinkled as he grinned. "Sorry," he said, and gave Charlie another kiss, quick and firm. "You should get that condom off," he added as he sat back on his heels like fucking two young academics to exhaustion was all in an evening's fun for him.

Maybe it was. Maybe this was Jack's job, recruiting consultants by taking them to bed. For about the first time ever, Charlie wondered if there could be something he might want to do more than be a professor. Anyway, Jack was right, and briskly taking his own advice. Charlie didn't really want to move, or pull his hands away from Susan's soft skin, and she murmured sleepy complaint when he shifted them onto their sides, but he gently disengaged himself and peeled off the condom, which stuck to him and made him grit his teeth.

Jack pushed Charlie's hair up and kissed the back of his neck, and Charlie's eyes fluttered with exhausted pleasure. He slumped down beside Susan, who didn't open her eyes but dropped her arm over his waist as she snuggled into his, and the last thing Charlie heard for awhile was her steady breathing as Jack hummed softly and jauntily.

Charlie woke up to the sound of the shower, and now wonders if he should get up as well, though he doesn't want to. It's not that he believes in love at first sight -- at twenty, he's much too old for that -- but he wants to watch Susan wake up, find out more about her, tell her a little about himself. For maybe the next thousand years or so.

The shower shuts off and the tap runs. Jack emerges from the bathroom with kitchen mugs in his hands, smiling at Charlie. "Here, have some water."

Charlie reaches up carefully, leaning on one elbow to keep from dripping on Susan as he drinks, so Jack can wake her more gently with a kiss on her ear. She sighs and stretches, and Charlie watches her over his mug's rim. The water tastes a little sweet, but then it tasted different in Princeton and New York from L.A.'s, and anyway Susan is much more fascinating, opening her eyes slowly like a revelation, then tilting her smile sideways as she deliberately jiggles. Charlie twitches deep inside and groans, hiding his face in the pillow as she giggles.

He looks up again as she drinks her water thirstily. "Ah, thank you," she tells Jack and kisses him, and he responds almost chastely. "You look like you're going," she says, voice soft and clear, and Charlie lets himself notice Jack's slicked-back hair and ready stance, lets himself feel a little disappointed.

"I have to," Jack says just as clearly. kneeling beside the bed, cupping their faces in his hands. Charlie nods, and Susan curls over, setting her head on Jack's shoulder.

Disappointment and uncertainty, and Charlie props himself up on one arm. "Um..."

Jack is looking at Susan, but Susan opens her blue eyes and looks at Charlie. "Stay if you like," she says, just as softly, and Charlie has no idea what the correct answer is.

The truth will have to do. "I'd like to. Thank you." Susan smiles, and Jack smiles at Charlie, so maybe truth was the right choice; she tips towards him again, resting her head on his chest, her hand warm on his arm, and it definitely is.

"Sleep well, kids." Jack leans over them, giving Susan and Charlie each a last quick kiss. "I'll email you a new problem in the coming week, and if you shag again be sure to let me know."

Susan snorts and laughs; Charlie rolls his eyes and laughs. He watches her close her eyes and shuts his as Jack pulls her comforter up over them, and they lie there together, warm and snug, listening to Jack gently humming as he gets dressed. "Maybe we'll collaborate on the next one," Susan murmurs, and Charlie responds with a sleepy agreeable noise, idly contemplating incomplete probabilities of this night's activities recurring, of Jack letting him top next time.

Neither Charlie nor Susan hear the front door close.

*%*%*

Charlie wakes up in an unfamiliar bed with a big band tune fading in his mind. His hand rests on the soft-skinned waist of a warm sleeping person, the room is muskily redolent of sex, and he completely lacks any memory of the previous night. He opens his eyes and sees a bright little bedroom with a florally painted dresser, framed pictures and an open closet full of feminine clothes, probably those of the beautiful blonde lying on her side facing him.

He should be panicking, Charlie thinks, counting her breaths -- normal light sleep -- but all he can feel is warm and bodily satiated; they must have had a hell of a good night, his muscles ache pleasantly with exertion, especially his hips and... his ass? As his heartrate starts to speed up, Charlie glances at the beauty beside him, her mouth tenderly pink and slack with sleep, her golden hair glinting in the early sunshine, her hand draped familiarly over his ribs. Her legs lie warmly alongside his, one knee propped on his thigh; he peeks under the comforter, white and tufted in his hand, and skims his eyes over her fine collarbones and round breasts, the soft curves of her belly and hips, her lacy blonde triangle of pubic hair, and those legs, sleek and shapely.

She's really beautiful, head to feet. Charlie can see why he jumped at the chance to go home with her, but not why she took a second look at him. And are her delicate fingers strong enough to have fingered him hard enough to leave him this resonantly sore?

Maybe. Charlie pokes at his memories, but finds nothing except that empty blank. Damn, he would've liked to have remembered his night with such a lovely girl.

Not to mention, he has no idea if she's going to kill him when she wakes up. That thought gets his heart pounding indeed, but... he can't get up and run. She's warm, she's lovely, and he doesn't even know her name.

He takes a deep breath, trying to remember what his high school paper on friendship matrices might have indicated in a situation like this, and waits as she breathes evenly under his hand. She doesn't make him wait very long, her golden lashes fluttering up to reveal stunning, intelligent blue eyes.

Charlie's heart clenches, painfully sweetly. If she wants to kill him he'll let her, as long as he can look into those eyes.

She blinks at him as she focuses, her hand moving a little on his side. Her lips part, and close, and finally shape themselves around his name. "Charlie?" she asks in a lilting British accent, and he nods.

She stares at him for a few more seconds; then her beautiful eyes suddenly widen and she pulls her hand away from him, wrapping her arms around herself. Charlie jumps, yanking his hand away from her, giving her as much space as he can lying naked in her bed. Her silky eyebrows draw down sharply, then slowly lift again, as she keeps staring intently at him.

Finally she says, "I can't remember last night."

Charlie nods carefully and wills himself not to get hard. It probably wouldn't help at the moment, even though she doesn't look angry, though she's even prettier with her waking personality animating her face. "Neither can I," he admits, hoping she'll take pity and tell him her name. Maybe they got really drunk together, but Charlie doesn't feel hungover, just warm and well-fucked, if increasingly worried.

"Oh," she says, and, "You're American," and after a longer pause, "do you remember my name?"

Charlie swallows hard, shaking his head, and that was the right answer, because she smiles breathtakingly. "Susan Berry," she says, holding up her hand. "I'm at the University, studying neurology."

This probably means he's allowed to breathe. He exhales and awkwardly shakes her hand. "Charlie Eppes, mathematics."

Susan nods briskly. "Undergraduate or graduate?"

Charlie blushes then, and briefly juggles probabilities, but the truth has been the best route so far. "Postgraduate. I, um, earned my doctorate from Princeton last spring."

Susan presses her beautiful mouth shut, her lips thinning, and his heart sinks. He knew she wouldn't believe him... but as she looks at him for another long minute her eyes thaw again. "You're not lying," she says softly, almost as if she doesn't believe herself. "Impressive."

Then she plunges both her hands into his hair and kisses him, and Charlie gasps into her mouth and catches her shoulders, her skin soft and warm under his hands, her mouth tender and hot over his. A thread of heat twists through him, and it's a thousand times more difficult not to get hard, but he still doesn't know if it would be okay. Kisses are a good sign, a _very_ good sign, but...

...but after a far too brief minute, Susan gently pushes him back. "Damn, I thought that might jog my memory. Yours?" Charlie shakes his head. "Well," she says, her smile growing and the tightness in Charlie's chest easing, "I guess we'll just have to start over."

"Let's make some new memories, then," Charlie says, and Susan arches an eyebrow at him until he realizes what he's said and starts to blush. She giggles brightly, setting off his laughter, and he hides his face in her pillow as her voice cascades cheerfully across his ears.

Eventually they calm down, and Susan sits up, her hand wavering over her pretty pink breasts before she deliberately puts it back down on her lap. Charlie loses his internal battle against his hard-on then, but manages to wind the comforter around his waist as he rolls onto his stomach. "So, Charlie, I have two questions for you," Susan says. "What do you fancy for breakfast, and do you have any experience with cognitive modeling?"

"Whatever you want," Charlie says, awash with relief, and maybe just a touch of cockiness as he adds, "also, yes, just a bit," and smiles.


End file.
